hot day

The heat of today was intense.   A day where standing still only gives you the opportunity to notice the beads of sweat rolling down your back, your own discontent and the whir of the fan that is circulating increasingly hotter air .  My dress, a favorite, red and white, high bust and flowing skirt, stuck to my body in protest.

Bored, listless and heat stricken my thoughts were drifting elsewhere...

I text The Boy, who had ventured to his office for the morning.... come home, I want you.

30 minutes later, his hands and my dress are sliding over my hips and the salty taste of his lips are crushing against mine... the urgency with which we undress each other, the freedom as I depart from the real world to a place where only our desire exists... how can sex be so good.  Even after 1000 times and with a familiarity that is unquestionable.  I don't know.

I love him.  I want him.  I hope that I don't have to let him go.  Because life is infinitely more complicated than the picture that's painted on the surface.  It's all in the detail.

me bad

Well maybe not my last cigarette.  

But I've only 2 today as to my normal pack a day habit.

Given that I nearly kicked my door down this morning, perhaps I should ween off first.

Shut up Fingers.

the end

After nearly 15 years.

I have smoked my last cigarette.

God help anyone who gets in my way in the next couple of weeks/years.

boxercise

This evening, somebody asked me if I went shopping today.  Now, I love fashion, wandering around aimlessly and generally being caught up in my own existence, but I would draw the line at battling it out with suburbanites over a red-light special.   

Anyway, another thing that I have been pondering today is the way in which people greet each other.  I suspect my reading of the delightful Ms From the World's  post on kissing inspired my renewed interest in the issue.

About 2 years ago, I was living in Paris.  I was frequently back in London, visiting America and working in Africa and Australia.  It was a wonderful experience, but it really sounds a lot more exciting than what it was.  What it was,in fact, was very bloody tiring.  I digress.  Spreading your life across 4 continents can be confusing, and the case in point is:

   the single cheek vs the double cheek vs the triple cheek kiss.  

My ex-boyfriend was a European where the triple cheek kiss was considered appropriate.  In Paris and London it was the double cheek.  In the US and Australia it is the single cheek.  Try working that out when you are jet-lagged and grumpy.  Getting it wrong can be quite painful with the inadvertent head butting, nose cracking etc.

Maybe, when the revolution comes, we can unify the greetings as well?  

Oh.  They tried that already?

twas the night before...

Happy Birthday Baby Jesus!

I have now been on holidays for almost a week and am completely chillaxified.  

I'm not really too big on the ol' Christmas day celebrations and will spend tomorrow eating, sleeping and watching crap TV.  Not being a particularly religious person, or the rearer of young offspring, this really doesn't depart too much from what I could do most weekends. 

Not that I am a grinch or anything.  

Merry Christmas peeps.  

30

Well, I've made it through 3 decades.

Despite my birthday being today, I celebrated early.    I had lunch with friends (sans toenail) yesterday.

Last night was one of the nicest birthday celebrations I've ever had.  A house full of candles, music, delicious food, vintage french champagne and it ended, well rather delightfully.

Coffee and presents in bed this morning, followed by a lovely day of eating chocolate, mangoes and talking with friends.  

K-Rudd

Well, hasn't there been a brou ha ha over our esteemed Prime Minister (under)delivering his carbon emissions plan.  Oh dear.

At an individual level, I have certainly not helped things with the purchase of my un-environmentally friendly air conditioner, which I collected today.

In my defence, the bloody thing had the highest "green" stars, but apparently that is not enough.  

As we were trying to lift the box up the stairs today, it caught my toenail and it ripped it right off.  My big toe nail.  Freshly pedicured and polished toe nail.  Hanging by a thread.

Very painful.  Very disgusting.

Fuck you Environment.  Fuck you very much.  

Aside

I have a lovely girlfriend, who is a little on the eccentric side.  She is doing her PHD in an obscure strand of cultural studies, has a penchant for hot pink, peroxide, glitter and self portraits on her digital camera.  

Always wanting to be the centre of attention, she often showcases her performance poetry at parties, christenings, bar mitzvahs and the like.  

At one particular wedding, at the end of the speeches, she took the microphone so as to give a (theatrical) reading of her poem "Gillette".   This particular piece is a dark tale of her occasional downward spirals which concludes with the line "scratch, claw, pull, where are my razors".  (Get it now, Gillette Sensors?)  It was a hippy crowd, and she had insisted on musical accompaniment, so this went down better than at say a Catholic service in Country Australia.    I have to say my personal favourite of her poetic offerings is entitled "Why can't I have a rainforest without so much mess".

Today she was informing me that she is getting back to her "simple self", more grounded, less drama, a less cluttered and material existence.  A little later in the conversation I enquired of her plans for tomorrow: "Facial, microdermabrasion, waxing, tinting, fake tan, massage and reiki".  

Ah, the simple things.  

air conditioning

I knew it wouldn't take too much of summer to take hold before the whining started.  It is disgustingly, revoltingly hot.  And my beautiful old house is like a steaming inferno death trap.  

Having had a major blow out in the shape of Christmas (over)spending, I am temporarily without means to purchase the necessary equipment to cool the house down.  Never one to let a temporary cash flow problem stop me, I've purchased a portable air conditioner.  The lord be praised.  It should be ready for collection on Wednesday, also known as public servant pay day.

Other random observations, dot point style:

• This time next week I'll be 30.  
  
• The crazies keep getting crazier.
• Pushing myself to the last day of work on Friday seems a near impossible feat.
• I miss London.  Oh, how I long to be bundled up against the elements.
• I feel like a swim.  
• I'm scared of the Ocean, despite being a complete water baby as a child. 
• I know nearly everything I'm getting for my birthday.  It appears that I'm not the only one who has a problem with surprises.  
• I spent 5 Christmases working 16 hours a day, 12 days straight, at a homeless shelter in London.  I'm not quite sure how I'll deal with all this extra time. 
• I will probably sleep. 

Goodnight.  

fuckity fuck fuck

Can't sleep.

Need valium.  Have none.

Boo.

funny

Stuff white people like.

broke

The Boy gets the watch and the music machine.

And I get this.

Baby sister gets both pairs of earrings.  They are very her. Cutesy.

Ma gets the print entitled "The rescue of a sea-worthy creature".

I might keep this one instead of the grey version.  The spare is a yet to be determined gift.

There has been a ridiculous amount of money spent this weekend.  And I am absolutely terrible at keeping gifts a secret.  By terrible, I mean I almost need to be physically restrained from showing the intended recipient early.

I may not be able to eat this week due to excessive spending. Food package could be required.

wildlife

The flying foxes in my back garden are driving me crazy.

I can't sleep.

And every so often when the bats stop squeeling for a moment, a possum will land on the roof. The wrought iron roof.

Nature can get fucked.

mememememememememememe

From the ever lovely sparsely kate:

LAYER 1: Tell us your...

* Name: La femme
* Birthday (month, day): December 20
* Birthplace: Sydney, Australia
* Current location: Australia
* Eye color: Blue
* Hair color: Dark Brown.
* Height: 174cm
* Righty or lefty: Right handed
* Zodiac sign: Saggitarius

LAYER 2: What's...

* Your heritage: Italian one side, Northern Irish the other (although I had it beaten in to me that there is only ONE Ireland)
* The shoes you wore today: Nine west sandals with metal bits. They are lovely.
* Your weakness: Morons.
* Your fears: Flying
* Your perfect pizza: Pepperoni
* Goals you’d like to achieve: Bring about a global revolution that I will achieve through the Internet. Or build a livable house of cards. Either or.
* Your first waking thoughts: Coffee.
* Your best physical feature: Eyes.
* Your most missed memory: All the ones I can't remember.


LAYER 3: Do you...

* Smoke: Yes. Soon No. Hopefully.
* Cuss: Fuck.
* Sing: Atrociously.
* Do you think you’ve been in love: Yes.
* Did you go to college: Yes.
* Liked high school: It was a good way to waste a day I suppose.
* Want to get/stay married: Not a prerequisite to a good relationship. But yes.
* Believe in yourself: Most of the time.
* Think you’re attractive: l'm alright.
* Think you’re a health freak: Yes. I alternate smoking hands to diversify my exercise regime.
* Get along with your parent(s): The children are more mature than the parents in my family.
* Like thunderstorms: Yep.
* Play an instrument: See post on piano playing.



LAYER 4: In the past month have you…

* Drank alcohol: Yes. Vodka and soda is my preferred tipple. With lots and lots of fresh lime. None of that sugary cordial crap
* Smoked: Yes.
* Done a drug: Only over the counter ones.
* Made out: Yes.
* Gone on a date: I suppose that's what you'd call it.
* Gone to the mall: No
* Eaten an entire box of Oreos: No.
* Eaten sushi: Yes. I love, love, love it.
* Been on stage: Stage. No. Soapbox. Yes.
* Been dumped: Not that I'm aware of.
* Gone skating: No.
* Gone skinny dipping: No. I would of had I the opportunity though.
* Stolen Anything: Hearts and Minds (for the revolution).



LAYER 5: Have you ever…

* Played a game that required removal of clothing: When a man and a woman love each other very much...
* Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Oh god yes.
* Been caught “doing something": I imagine I've been caught doing many things.
* Been called a tease: No.
* Shoplifted: Yes.


LAYER 6:

* Age you did get/hope to be married: Hope to be by the end of the week.
* Numbers and names of children (either you have or want): Nil. I'd like a few but I you probably need to see them before you start naming them.
*Describe your dream mate: For the love of god.
* How do you want to die: Old and asleep.
* What did you want to be when you grow up: A barrister.
* What country would you most like to visit: Bhutan looks cool. Or Vietnam. I'd like to explore Asia more.



LAYER 7: Now tell...

* Name a drug you’ve taken illegally: Name one I haven't would be a bigger challenge. I had a wild youth.
* Name a person you could trust with my life: The Boy. Sister.
* Name a favorite CD that you own: I have a shed load of Music. I am still hooked on Radiohead's last one, In Rainbows.
* Number of piercings: Ears
* Number of tattoos: 3
* Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: None. Been on the television a bunch of times though for work stuff. And I was in a bread commercial once.
* Name a past experience that you regret: None I suppose. I don't even regret some of the fuckstick exes.

beautiful day

I had a loverly day today.  

And this evening I watched this:

This is one of the best films I've seen in a long time.  I saw the soundtrack in a record shop on one of my vinyl searching missions a while back, I didn't buy it at the time, but tomorrow I will.

And, in other news, I'm going back to Africa.  Today, has been a good day.  They've been a bit thin on the ground of late.

I would have chosen better

Hmmmm, I saw a comment on my picture speculating on whether or not it was in fact me.  Um, yeah, if i was trawling around looking for a photographic avatar I think I might have been a little more discerning.

Check out the wog nose and forehead lines.  It's all meeeeeeeeeeeeeee I'm afraid. 

Sydney circa 1984

Sometimes I wish I was as gutsy today as I was at five. 

 At said age, my grandfather took me to a shopping centre for one reason or another.  It was around this time of year, and on the centre stage they were showcasing pianos, hoping that some poor bastard would cough up the cash so that their little angels would become the virtuosos they knew them to me. 

They were going for the hard sell and had just concluded the demonstration concert.  The spruiker then steps to the microphone and asks if anyone in the audience can play.  I let go of my grandfather's hand, walked up to the stage, adjusted my skirt as a lady would before sitting and proceeded to play a very enthusiastic and embellished version of "Chopsticks".  

Except I couldn't really play chopsticks and when endeavoring a particularly dramatic banging of the keys...I fell straight back off of the piano stool.  

Did I care? Hell to the no.  I readjusted my skirt, sat back down and kept right on playing.  

PS - Surprisingly, although very amused, Granddad didn't buy me the piano and my journey in to the music world was limited to a bad relationship with a keyboard player in later life.  

imperfect

Life's a funny old thing isn't it.  Full of weird and wonderful characters.

For some reason, the last few days I've had my old boss on my mind.  I travelled throughout Africa with her on a number of works trips.  She was a barrister, a former professional singer, a fantastic chef and could host the perfect dinner party with the requisite ragamuffin pseudo intellectuals, dirt poor artists and some of the best legal minds in the country, with ease. 

Darling.  

Anyway, this woman was stunningly beautiful and wickedly bright.  She was also a full blown, but functioning alcoholic.  Her house was mortgaged to the hilt so that she was able to give her only son the oxford education and international wanderings he desired.  He, like his mother, was drop dead gorgeous and academically gifted.  But, he was spoilt, drug adled and their relationship would often deteriorate in to violent episodes.

Her first husband, when they met, was successful, and also married with four young sons.  After a number of years together and the dissolution of his marriage, they married and within 6 months he was tying her in the garage and beating her to an unrecognizable state.  She stayed, and his behavior became more depraved, for the next five years. 

When I met her, many years later.  She was having an affair with a married man.  Actually, I think that every relationships she'd had since was with a man who had been unavailable.  I remember thinking how horrible she was for her behavior.  And I mean I was vehemently opposed to her actions.  I look back now, and realise...she was broken.  It is not an excuse, it does not justify it, but it helps me understand why she is the way she is.  I haven't heard from her for a few years, but I hope she has managed to find some happiness.

As of today, my partner is married, and not to me.  Although, he is separated, the ex-spouse lives on another continent and is also with someone else.  However, the very fact that he had been married caused me unbelievable angst.  I never imagined that my life would turn out in such a way that my partner had had a life partner before me.   It is very funny that given the chaotic upbringing I had, that I set such rigid and absolute ideas of what my life would be, when the past has taught me that there really isn't room for such things.  

Being a good person, trying to help others, not deliberately or knowingly hurting anyone  - those are things I can try to do. Everything else is beyond my control.  

In order to prevent any misapprehension that I am chanelling "the power of now", whilst energising my crystals and listening to relaxation music, please imagine I'm listening to Drop It Like it Hot by Snoop Dog.

I'm not, but you know, just imagine.  

dear reality fighters

I have an appreciation for crazy as much as the next person.  Hell, I've had my mother on all fours, meowing like a cat at me before.  Seriously.

For that reason, and with the greatest respect, I prefer to confine the crazy to my physical reality.  

I don't believe in conspiracies, I don't think that that the human race is evolving towards some superhuman collective conscience, I don't care for any drama other than the sort that chooses to land on my doorstep.  The one with the bell.  That I can hear when it rings.

So, roll on how you wish peeps, but I prefer to stay firmly ensconced in my own comfortable online world of navel gazing.  

what not to do if depressed...

I have stated in a previous post, that I still believe in fairytales.  Well, of late, I've been thinking about that a wee bit.  

I suppose that a fairytale, when viewed in the cold harsh light of day, is probably nothing but the unhinged ramblings of someone whose real life is in all likelihood marred by a chronic drug addiction, bizarre sexual fetishes or crippling agoraphobia.   Or not.

Moving right along.

Tonight, I watched the Sean Penn film Into the Wild.  Absolutely. Harrowing.

I won't spoil the whole plot, but it is the story of a college graduate who, upon successfully graduating university, donates the remainder of his college fund ($24,000) to Oxfam International and sets out across the United States in an effort to escape the dysfunctional family unit and *find himself*.  

Along the way, he meets an old man whose wife and son had been killed by a drunk driver some 50 years prior and who had lived his life in solitude ever since.    The boy, who has assumed the name Alexander Supertramp, and the old man spend some weeks together and become close, before the boy continues on for his final destination, Alaska.

In the scene where Alexander and the man part, the old man explains to Alex that his father and mother were only children, as was he.  He explains that when he is gone, that it will be the end of the family line.  He earnestly asks Alex, with tears rolling down his cheeks, if he could adopt him and be like his grandfather.  Alex responds "can we talk about it when I get back".   End scene.    I find myself in tears thinking about this now, even hours later.

There is nothing that pains me more than if I see an elderly person, who has lived a life as full and storied as anyone, that through the turn of fate has been left without a soul in the world to connect to.   

That being the case, and if fate and coincidence can serve up such a bastard deck of cards to leave someone alone and lonely, then surely I have to believe that the same fickle hand of fate may just come through with a happy ending.

truly brilliant people (not referenced in this post)

This person has left me absolutely lost for words.

Prepare to be amazed.

Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

What. A. Fucking. Week.

Dear god, I am amazed I made it through it.  Work was insanely stressful and busy and to top it all off come Friday morning, I had the beginnings of a cold sore.  I am a fairly non-fuss sort of a girl, but nothing brings out my inner self obsessed princess like a bout of herpes.  Revolting.  Anyway, I have discovered the joys of Lysine - and the little bastard has all but disappeared.  Huzzah!

I am now just 4 weeks shy of 30, and am wondering how to appropriately mark the occasion.  I really am not a big party sort of a girl, so I think that I will just catch up with friends for a celebratory lunch.  It is quite odd, I have a number of different groups of friends, that are completely different from each other, that I don't think would really click if they were all together at the same time.  And I think that I would find an event that brought both groups together quite stressful.  One group are law talkers and the other group are hippies.  I wonder if I were a more well adjusted person, whether I would worry about such things?

My 30th birthday also marks my 16th year out of home.  By golly gosh how time flies.  I have gone from homeless, to teeny bopper dolly magazine model, to receptionist, to uni student, to law talker to traveler to civil and environmental rights crusader.  Whilst I still have a penchant for valium and unhealthy relationships, I can say with certainty...You've come a long way baby.

I was thinking the other day, that because of my family history andf general demeanor, I will never ever feel comfortable to have a big family wedding.  I actually grieved this fact for quite some time, but now, I like the idea that one day my beloved and I will exchange vows, at sundown, with no-one else but us.  All my life I truly believed I wanted the meat and 3 veg, traditional nuclear family...but now...I actually feel happy that my life has a bit of texture.  

La Femme sans cold sore



My latest acquisition which arrived Friday.

dear america (and anybody else)

I have spent the last 18 months of my life following the presidential campaign of Barack Obama.  I am Australian, and a political nerd.

Notwithstanding. Please let this be the day when history is made and where I won't have to worry that some renegade is going to bomb the fuck out of Iran in the short to medium future.  

I believe I am privileged to have seen this race being run.  That this period will be a defining moment in history, for better or worse. 

Barack Obama for President.  Please, please, please, please, please.

If the McCain/Palin ticket succeeds, I will be going in to a period of mourning for an indeterminate period of time.

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my

I am feeling much better now, having fully recovered from my vile flu like illness.

The weekend, however, was a different story entirely.  I was bed ridden, grumpy and generally ill tempered.  And, I tell you what didn't help me, was trolling around the internet and spending far too much time familiarising myself with  my fellow man.  

Now a lot of the blogs I read, I love.  Some that I discover, I just tut tut, sigh, yawn and click onwards.  But, this weekend, I learned me a somethin'... there are blog WARS!  Forget the Congo, forget Iraq, forget Afghanistan...you can have your fill of grief and horror right here on the interweb of doom.  

I think that I prefer my fairy floss view of blogging.  Live and let live, man.  If you have differing views, cool.  Debate, engage, watch fascinated from a distance the way people slow down after a car accident, but to seemingly dedicate your life to the destruction of an electronic entity...holy bejesus that is scarier than Sarah Palin.  Well not quite, but I dig dramatic effect.

I feel stripped of my innocence.  

But I ain't gonna let it get me down.  I can't, the revolution is coming.

 

i miss you, london

To celebrate your own failed (or temporarily suspended) love affairs, click here.

faces in the stars

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled

And paced among the mountains overhead

And hid his face among a crowd of stars.

William Butler Yeats

I built an ark

I am ill and grumpy today.  I have a bizarre flu, that is awful when I wake up and before I go to sleep but sort of levels out to general lethargy and self pity for the remainder of the day.  And, hot flushes.  I'm only 29, so hopefully it is not the onset of early menopause.  Good times.

So, no work for little old me yet as I have spent the last two days staring at the ceiling cursing the world and imbibing vast quantities of nurofen plus.  Joy.

Anyway, the neighbourhood possum (one of, there are HUNDREDS) came to my back door last night to eat from the cat's bowl, complete with little baby possum on board.  And then, today, I heard the bowl knock over and upon investigating found a massive blue tongue lizard just snacking on the cat biscuits.  

Yep, the flu, possai and lizards is all I got today.  

Tagged

My first meme, I've been tagged by the lovely FTW....here goes...

Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person that tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share 6 non-important/habits/quirks about yourself
4. Tag 6 random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
5 Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up

1) I can't stand chipped finger nail polish. Drives. Me. Bananas.

2) Even if I'm running late in the morning, I have to have a cup of coffee with cream before I leave the house.

3) I never feel a greater surge of excitement than when I arrive at an airport in a foreign country that I've never been before.

4) My patience for public servants is extremely limited, and I am one. (I want to be a lobbyist, so you gotta do the time).

5) If I ever have a valium before a flight, I have to take it with coffee because I read somewhere once the caffeine aids the absorption.

6) I've been flying since I was a little girl, but became fearful of it in my mid twenties, which, you know, is a bit of a bummer because I generally take upwards of 20 flights per year. So sometimes, if the valium ain't working, I will have a conversation in my head with grandfather, who was in the airforce and loved planes, and it calms me down.

I tag anyone who wants to do this!

And I think you should all check out my lovely friend Chloe's blog. She's tops.

life and love and stuff

To the cynical, and I count myself in that demographic ordinarily, the following will probably invoke some nausea. 

In countenance to my cynicism, I am a die hard romantic. 

Quite some time ago, late one night, and shortly after the first declarations of love were made,the boy rang me and read me this poem...

  

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

I have one wish.  That no matter what life throws at me (and there has been some clangers), I always, always, want to believe in the joy I felt at that moment.    

Maybe the secret to a happy life is appreciating, in isolation, the joy of all these individual little things that happen along the way.  Free of any expectations that life will continue on the merry path of wonderfulness until the ever after.  

Plus, there is always the thrill of anticipation of never knowing when it might happen again.  

i give thee thanks...

Here's the low down: dot point style:

• I'm on holiday for a week.  I have not organised myself to such a degree that I will be going away anywhere, but I am presently on leave from my (at times) ridiculously demanding job.   
  
• I regularly, and moreover very recently, have mind blowing sex with a man who I not only love insanely and happen to think is the sexiest creature on earth, but who feels exactly the same about me.  Even if the world were to somehow pull us apart; I will always remember the electricity he can send charging through my body with both his touch and the whisper of .... *swoon*.  
• Today I went to the hairdressers and was given some delicious smelling Aveda Shampoo and Conditioner.  For free!
• I went home, ate my sushi lunch, made some small talk with Jesus, and had myself a lovely afternoon nap.
• As I type, a summer thunderstorm does its thing outside.  

Good times.

**Jesus is the cat. 

good times

I'm tipping the exhaustion scales this evening.  It was steaming hot today and I am completely spent.

Unfortunately for me: the neighbors; not so.  Last night's car crash involving a rather cerebral drink driver desperately trying to hide his car in the nearest driveway (!) has been outdone this evening by a rather loud domestic, complete with "Get away from my boyfriend you fuckin' slut!" and "He pulled a knife on Tommo" which has just been brought to its climax by the wailing sirens of our boys in blue.  

Word up, inner city living.

I'm emotionally tired, too.  Work has drained me.  Love has drained me.  Life has drained me.  All I want it is to sleep and I can't.  

I look at my life of recent times, and I don't really have too much room for complaint.  I've worked in remote communities in Africa, lived in London and Paris, held interesting and rewarding jobs and i've had me many an adventure.  

And whilst most of the time I convince myself that I am a successful, independent, and modern woman who needs not a man by her side and the thought of children to look forward to... some days its really hard.   

  

feminism schemenism

I love the New Yorker.  I love New Yorkers even more.  What I do not love, however, is Sarah Palin.  I have spent much of the last month agonising over the selection of this women to run for the vice presidential office of the United States.

Now, I am not an American.  If I were, I certainly would not be a Republican.  For fucks sake, what were they thinking?  Actually, I know what they were thinking and that makes my blood boil even more.

As a reasonably successful professional, I believe it is appointments such as these that do a disservice to all women that aspire to a career in politics or public life.  Argh.  

May I suggest that everyone visit this link.   

I heart Obama.  

Snippet

Ghost is on television.

My thoughts on Patrick Swayze have been aired here before.

*SIGH*

The man is a God.  

why do people cry after sex?

I have found, of late, that immediately upon climax I can not control the urge to burst in to tears.  Word on the street is that this is not such an uncommon occurrence, but I still be a wonderin'.   

Another thing that makes me cry is that due to the cuntish behavior of an ex-boyfriend, I missed the Antony and the Johnsons concert at the Barbican in London.  On the upside, I can still hold on to the excitement and anticipation of when I will finally see them live. 

Both of these videos are must see.

summer lovin

I am in heaven. I am normally less than fond of the extreme humidity and heat of this country's northern end, today, however, has been bliss.

It's warming up. There is still a cool breeze that tickles my skin. I can't wait for summer.

I want watermelon, boost juice smoothies, the smell of salt on my skin and hair and the true bone weary exhaustion that follows a day on the Australian sea shore.  

(Cut to two months from now and I will be poring over Harvey Norman catalogues declaring that if I can't get a portable air conditioner immediatley then i'll surely expire)

today has been okay

I books, I Phones, E Bay, I Tunes, I Store, E Sure, My Space, Blogging, Phishing, Spoofing, Spamming, I Pods, E Mail...you get the picture.

I was contemplating last night, the way in which technology has affected my life. I can listen to what I want, communicate with whomever I want, buy whatever I need and play out the narrative in my own blog daily all with the touch of a few buttons.

Take MySpace, I can have my favourite music, photographs, friends, movies, books, food and cultural leanings all nicely packaged up and given their own web address. It's a blank canvass for me to show the world who I am. I can choose a background, a soundtrack and even organise my beloveds in to their rightful "Top 8" order. How fabulous!

Now, I like to think that I am pretty unapolagetic about who I am. I may not always be happiness and light, but I am confident and comfortable in my own skin. However, do even the most confident and self assured fall prey to self censorship and creative licence? Do we create our own electronic personalities, which become so ingrained in us that it's hard to tell where our virtual reality starts and ends? Hmmm, I am unsure if I am in a position to answer my own question, after all, my technological renaissance came circa. 1985 with a Beta video player and an Alaskan pen pal.

Pondering these big issues has suitably distracted me from my current predicaments.  Weary.  

Weekend blues

Thinking about this weekend, I was filled with anticipation .

I wanted to sleep, read, op shop and generally lay about.  

Instead, I have discovered that someone close to me has betrayed me and my relaxing weekend has disintegrated in to tears galore and endless cups of tea and cigarettes.  

Sad.

Word up, New Order.

29 things

I was going to fill this post with 29 things that i've learnt in my 29 years.  Alas, I can nay be bothered.  So, 13 things before I'm 30 it will be:

1.    I am in a relationship with a wonderful man.  We are having some time out at the moment.  I've learnt that being in relationship with a bastard or a prince can be equally as hard in different ways.

2.    I still feel like my youth will last forever, despite numerous external indicators to the contrary. 

3.    Day time functions are best when family are involved.  (i.e. Weddings, Christmas, birthdays etc)  It is much easier to keep alchy parents sober this way.  Well, "sober" might be a stretch, but you can make an escape before the evening show.  My manic depressive Mother once bought home a random bloke and meowed like a cat, whilst on all fours, on the driveway in our middle class suburb.  These sorts of memories require a lot of years to pass and plenty of therapy before you can see the funny side.   

4.   Helping others is the best feeling in the world.  Even when you get pissed off with it all.   I worked with a homeless organisation in London for five years and after each and every event we would hold over Christmas, I would get as sick as a dog.  It remains one of the best things I've ever done.

5.   Traveling can change who you are.  But no matter how far you run, your state of mind always comes along for the ride.

6.  I can easily rationalize all of the things that I need to do to have a balanced life.  Friends, partner, work satisfaction etc.  It is extremely hard to do.  

7.  I've been a bad friend sometimes.  I get distracted and can drop off the planet.  

8.  You can't have everything.  I struggle with making good choices in my personal life, but have been successful professionally.  

9.   I am a diehard, hardcore, fall down romantic.  I like this about myself.  It is my best and my worst trait.

10.  I still really like pureed apple.  And lettuce.  I  love lettuce.   

11.   I can sometimes get so swept in what I want to be that I forget about who I am.  And I'm like, alright, innit. 

12.   Drugs were fun.  Back in the day.

13. A woman needs a room of her own.  Word up Virginia Woolf.  

I could be a number one bestseller in America, non?  I would title my book: "My ex-boyfriend stole my washing machine and other random factoids from a life reasonably lived".   The anticipation of my assured success is almost more than I can bear.  

The end. 

How Patrick Swayze ruined my life

As the years have passsed and I have meandered down the long path to adulthood, I've held on to a few things along the way. Yes, at 29 years of age, I still believe in fairytales. I like the simplicity of the notion that good and evil are clearly defined and that the baddies always lose. Using this logic, it makes sense that one's lot in life will determined by whether or not you share your fairy bread and with how much fervour you can sing "sticks and stones may break my bones..." and really mean it.

Unfortunately, age and experience have revealed the harsh reality that the good guys do not always win, no matter how nice you might be or how high above sea level you are perched upon your moral ground.

Anyway, the point is, I still believe!

You see, due to inadequate parental supervision and lack of a stable male figure in my life, I learnt to define the roles of relationships from things other than family. That's right. The measuring stick of a proper, functioning relationship for me was that of Johnny & Baby in Dirty Dancing. I thought his bad temper, slick moves and soft on the inside centre were the epitomy of what a man should be. "Nobody puts baby in a corner". Damn right.

Needless to say, there have been many romantic disaster borne out this ideal.

Take it away, Stevie.

Public Notice

A short note to my ex.

You discovered and read my last blog.  You read my diary.  You've called me every name under the sun and, for a while, I believed some of what you said.

Just in case you stumble across this one day:  Fuck you.  I will write what I want.  When I want.   And I will NOT be abandoning this one.

Memories

Music has always comforted me through every major change in my life. Now is no different.

Here is the fantastic Beirut, filmed on the street adjacent to my old apartment in Paris.

i heart thom yorke

Overheard

Statement

"I think a big head and a small dick is a bad combo"

Response

"I don't think a big dick and a small head is any better"

Quite.

Yesterday, all my troubles...

I love old stuff.  Pictures.  Records.  Books.  I stumbled across this picture on a random search of the interweb.  I am trying to discover what Sydney was like in the 1920s.  

For these four, looks like life wasn't treating them too badly, non?  Well this is in fact their mug shot, taken at Sydney central police station after being charged with robbery.  Three of the four then went on to serve 15 months in prison.  They look so bemused by it all.    I wish I knew their stories.

This little lady to my left, was (perhaps still is, although it might be a bit of redundant job these days) a French resistance fighter during German occupation.  How bloody fantastic is that?  I have such a soft spot for the Frenchies.  It really does take tenacity to remain as feisty as they are.  Not that I like to pigeon hole people or anything.  

And another thing...

I heard somebody use the term "cleanse your intellectual palette" .   

Stupid man.  

First post

I have discovered something I dislike even more than the fact that I had to abandon my last blog due to a stalker-esque ex boyfriend.  I came across an article in Vogue this evening which made reference to Germaine Greer's, The Female Eunuch.    It was all about sexual liberation, female emancipation; you get the gist.  

It then cited *real life* examples of women who *had it all*.  These women had broken free of the shackles of male dominated relationships, lived internationally (with three children in tow), enjoyed an astronomically successful career and were ardent environmentalists.    All the while turned out immaculately.

Now don't get me wrong.  It is empowering, and desirable, for women to be inspired by the sisterhood.  I'm a sister.  And an environmentalist.  

What is not inspiring however, is citing completely outrageous and unrealistic examples that only serve to ensure that the majority of women end up feeling guilty that they aren't *living the life*.  

Its funny that some of the most outwardly successful women I know, fuck their bosses before jumping on a long haul flight to chair a meeting on new climate change initiatives.  Go figure.